Page 98 of Chasing Callie

“What are you saying?” Brax asks, tone wary.

“Theo and Penelope were found dead in a hotel room this morning.” Antonio’s voice remains steady, professional. “Sounds like you all had an altercation the other night.”

My ears ring as I try to process what he’s saying. Which confrontation? The one at the diner or the show down with Penelope at the Bar? I don’t understand. They were murdered? Bile burns my throat.

“We don’t know anything,” Jax says.

Another officer speaks, Trina I think, her tone gentler but no less firm. “Listen, guys, we need you to cooperate. It’s all standard procedure. Come down to the station so we can sort this out.”

My world tilts sideways. My guys are being questioned for murder. Of my ex-boyfriend no less. This can’t be happening. We barely got back together, I can’t lose them right as I got them back. My chest aches.

I rush out of the house. “Trina.” My voice cracks. “Are they under arrest?”

She gives me a sympathetic look. “Not right now.”

Not. Right. Now. But they could be, maybe will be. My gut churns. I turn around, gaze bouncing between the guys, tears burning. An icy finger of dread tracing down my spine. They’d do anything to protect me, but I know they didn’t kill Theo. We were with each other all night.

My men are strong though, and they each kiss my temple before following the officers to the police cruiser, their shoulders tense but compliant. Knox glances back. The look on his face—resignation mixed with something that might be fear—makes my chest constrict.

The cruiser doors slam shut with a finality that echoes in my bones. As they drive away, my mind spins into overdrive. This is wrong. All wrong.

I race toward the counter where I left my keys, my hands shaking as I grab them. Whatever happened to Penelope and Theo, whatever mess this turns into, I’m not letting them face it alone.

Chapter Thirty-Three

JAX

The station walls feel like they’re closing in. Beige paint, fluorescent lights that buzz and flicker, and that goddamn clock on the wall tick-tick-ticking away every second. The sound crawls over my skin, and I glare at the stupid timekeeper.

The officers separated us the moment we walked through the door. Knox went left, Brax went right, and I got shoved into this cramped interrogation room with a metal table that’s seen better days and two plastic chairs meant to make me uncomfortable.

I drum my fingers on the table, my leg bouncing under it, nervous energy crackling through me like live wire. Every time I close my eyes, I see Callie’s face on that porch when Antonio dropped the bomb about Theo and Penelope.

Tick.

Murdered. They were killed and the officers must think we had something to do with it. Why else would they bring us here? I think back to that exchange we had, the threats I lobbed at Theo. I should know better than to say that shit in front of witnesses.

Everyone knows I’m a fighter. Is it that big of a jump to label me murderer? Is that their angle? Pinning it on the violent Williams brother?

Tick.

My hands clench into fists. Part of me wishes I had been the one to deal with Theo’s pretentious ass. The way he looked at Callie like she was something he wanted to break over and over again made me want to put my fist through his fucking face.

But murder?

Tick.

That’s not my style. When I hurt people, they know exactly who did it and why.

“Fuck,” I growl, raking my fingers through my hair. We have an alibi. After we left the diner, we went back to the house. Fell asleep tangled together in Knox’s king-size bed.

None of us left the house after that. We were all accounted for.

But what good is an alibi if no one else can vouch for us?

My stomach churns. Tick. What if they try to pin this on us anyway? Tick. Small town cops love a convenient suspect, and we’ve got motive written all over us. Tick. The confrontation at the diner, our history with Penelope, the lawsuit Theo was threatening. TICK. Him and that stupid tax lien. TICK. It all looks bad from the outside.

TICK.